


They Didn't Leave

by SandsScribbles



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Gen, Metamorphosis, Mild Gore, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Self-Mutilation, Transformation, campaign stuff, don't mind me, pretty gruesome ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandsScribbles/pseuds/SandsScribbles
Summary: They said the scales would fall off. They said that months ago and now, Chase was beginning to worry.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	They Didn't Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Stuff went down after the campaign last night, dudes. We talked about the repercussions of a Dragonborn's soul that was temporarily stuck in a humans body. This is my gift to them.

They said that they would just fall off.  
The whole thing with Raganok and the body swap happened weeks ago. It was supposed to be over! Why were they still there?

When they temporarily traded bodies, the Dragonborn, Leaper, was the unfortunate soul who fell into his body. Her presence had left small blue scales scattered around his eyes like freckles. “Weird,” he thought when he saw them but they had more pressing issues to deal with at the time so he had filed it away for later.  
When they won the bet against Raganok and gained their original body’s back, Chase noticed two things right away.

One, his vision was much clearer and two, he still had the scales.  
“It’s nothing to worry about, dear!” Mother had said in their light, chipper voice.  
“They’ll come right off, dude,” Leaper said matter of factly, as if she’s dealt with this before. Creator knows, maybe she has.  
And so he dealt with it. After all, he had been through a lot worse before, during and after his time in the Providence. He could handle a small splatter of scales around his eyes.

That was weeks ago. That was _months_ ago.

“They’re still not coming off,” he yiped, pulling at his face for the millionth time. Everyday, he would wake up to see more scales creeping over his cheeks, slowly enveloping his face in hard, teal platelets. When he first discovered the spread, he tried not to panic but that was getting harder and harder not to do.

  
His hands ran over them more urgently, his nails digging underneath them and started drawing blood. God, even his blood looked wrong. It was too bright, too red. The cuts healed over quicker than they normally would, nearing cleric levels of fast.  
Before he knew it, they were healed over with no signs of scarring. The blue had traveled even further down.  
“No no no no no!” he tore and dug at them once more, brutally mauling his face trying to get those _stupid_ scales off. Mutant blood flowed freely down his arms and into the sink but it was no use. Every time he tried, he was greeted with slightly pink skin and a growing number of scales.

  
He hoped no one could hear him sob.  
~~~

It’s been four months since the switch and it has only gotten worse. Chase no longer came out of his room, not wanting to concern the other crew members. Whenever they’d ask, he’d say that he was doing research or something. They had the prophecy to take care of, and who was he to put himself in front of the end of the universe? No. He’d wait until it was over to mention it.  
That didn’t stop them from worrying, though. Everyday, people kept knocking at his door, asking if he was alright. He’d just joke it off and say he was feeling sick. It wasn’t a complete lie, he’d tell himself after they’d leave. His eyes started twitching.  
~~~

Chase woke up wheezing. It was like his lungs had melted and shriveled up inside of him and yet they were still trying to breathe. He was choking for air, trying to call out for someone, anyone to help. But no sound left his throat but struggled whimpers. Cerulean painted hands clawed at his neck.  
He fell off of his bed and scrambled to the bathroom. Black pinpricks danced across his vision as he fought for air. He barely reached the toilet before he keeled over and emptied his stomach into it. Hot bile escaped through his lips and he could feel it burn his throat. Whatever he had eaten the day before was now floating in the bowl.  
Some sick part of him _liked_ the feeling of it. The pure fire reaching out from deep inside of him and leaving his body like the roaring flames inside the Providence’s many hearths.  
“W-what’s wrong with me?” his voice wilted feebly. He knew no one would hear him, why would they?  
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, clutching the toilet like a lifeline but one thing’s for sure, he couldn’t face the glowing slit eyes staring at him from the mirror.  
~~~

Oh Creator, it **_burns_**. It feels like his insides were forcefully taken out and pickled before his eyes. God, he could feel the vinegar dissolving them already.  
~~~  
He didn’t even think about it. All he could do now was sit in the shower and look at the mass of shattered glass on the floor, his own monstrous reflection staring back at him.  
~~~  
Chase couldn’t remember how long it’s been. The universe could have ended and the Creator could’ve forged a new one with it’s ashes and he wouldn’t have been the wiser. He was now completely covered in graying teal scales and he couldn’t think of anything else other than “My God, what would Henrik think?”  
There was a knock at the door that caused Chase to flinch. Why did it have to be so loud?  
“Chase?” A timid voice came from behind it. Wrandrall? Names weren’t processing correctly at the moment. He hesitated before knocking again.  
“Chase, are you in there?”  
“Yeah?” It came out more like a whine then an answer.  
“D-dinner’s ready in the kitchen, if you want to come..”  
“I uhmn” his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, like it didn’t quite fit.  
“M’finme”  
It was wrong, too wrong. It was overwhelmingly hot in here, God, those lights. He took a step towards the switch to dim them but he couldn’t feel his arms at his side or his feet underneath him. When did everything become so blurry? Why did the floor seem so much closer than before?  
He could vaguely hear yelling, but it was too far away for him to care. Were those his teeth on the ground? Funny, he didn’t remember leaving them there. Somebody should really turn these Creator forsaken lights down.

Everything seemed to happen at once.  
Fire ripped through his body. Seething flames scorched his insides starting in the blood and ending in the veins, corrupting him from the inside out. The loud guttural screech that emitted from him was enough to alert everyone on board.

_“AAAAAAAAHGH”_

He could feel his bones snapping and deviating, finding new places to reside. The cartilage was shifting and rearranging underneath his skin as easily as someone deboning a fish. He could register his joints dislocating and relocating into completely new sockets. Fingers elongating into fine, sharp points and his nails growing at a fast enough rate to begin to tear up the carpet.

New vertebrates began breaking off from old ones. Each one making it’s entrance with a long, agonizing _pop! Craaaaack_. There must’ve been a hundred of them in total, all coming together to form a new limb. It burst out of his skin like a creature hatching out of an egg. Wet tears and slaps came from it as it hit the floor.  
The new thing thumped onto the ground inelegantly. It was thrashing around violently and knocked over anything that was in reach.  
Hot, acidic tears bled out of his eyes, staining the rug beneath him.  
 _“FAAAAACKINGAAHAAHAAA”_ he was sobbing now, fighting for breath.

If he had enough conscious thought left, he would have realized that the door had been busted down long ago and his teammates were standing outside the frame, staring at him in horror. None of them were really sure how to react to their friend undergoing a gruesome metamorphosis. So they just stood there and watched.

Eventually it all calmed down and he was exhausted. He collapsed on the floor and began to hyperventilate. He could vaguely see his teammates standing over him and the last thing he remembered doing was looking up at Leaper and saying,

“They didn’t come off.”


End file.
